The acres of pink fabric. The magic wand. The frustrating zipper. The warm soft skin of Heather’s back as he’d finally slid the zipper down to her waist, knowing he wanted to make love to her. Brody hadn’t known they would go that far, but they had. He should have guessed she was inexperienced and have gone easy, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t even realized what was going on until she’d dug her fingers into his back. By then it was too late—and not just for him. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Last night wasn’t a dream.” He walked up to the main house. Much of the snow and ice had melted with a few warm days while he was away, but he wasn’t fooled. It was early February. The New England winter was still in full swing. Vic had arrived from New York. Heather’s truck was there along with several other trucks and vans. Brody noticed the Sloan & Sons logo on a couple of them.
